Newspaper Page Text
to in « ww wwwiwwwww TRe Light in the Clearing A Tale of the North Country in the Time qf Silas Wright j: :: :: By IRVING BACHELLER Author of "Eb,n Hold.n"D'rt and I," "Darrel of the Bleated Ialaa" "lCupin* Up With Llsai«," Ktc„ Bt«. (Copyright, by Irrlog bachelier) CHAPTER XVIII—Continued. — 18 — He hud a priceless and unusual tal ent for avoiding sclmol-jreadcr English anil the arts of declamation anil for preparing a difficult subject to enter the average brain. The underlying se eret of his power wus soon appurent to me. He atood always for that great thing In America which, since then, Whitman has called "the divine aggre gate," and seeing clearly how every measure would he likely to affect Its welfar •, he followed the compass. It had led him to a height of power above all others and was to lend him unto the loneliest summit of accom plishment In American history. Not much In my term of service there Is Important to this little task of mine. ! did tny work well. If I may believe tile senator, find grew familiar with the gentle und ungentle arts of the politician. One great* fact grew in magnitude and sullen portent lit the months passed: the gigantic slave-holding In terests of the Mouth viewed with grow ing alarm the spread of abolition sen timent. Subtly, quietly mid naturally th«*y were feeling for the means to dé* fend and Increase their power. Straws were coming to the surface In that session which betrayed this deep un dercurrent of purpose. We felt It and llut senator was worried. I knew, but held his peace. He knew how to keep his opinions until the hour had struck that summoned them to service. The se, lutor never played with his lance. Hy and by Spencer openly sounded the note of conflict ' „„ , . ... I he most welcome year of my life dawned on the first of January, 1844. remember that I arose before day light that rimming and dressed and went out on the street to welcome It. I had less than six months to wait H0 for that day appointed by Sally. I had | no doubl that she would lie true to me/ | 0 1 hud had my days of fear and depres- , *'<•«, *"*1 always my sublime fultli in her fume buck In good time. Oh, yes, Indeed, Washington was a fair of bounty and gallantry those dnys. I saw It all. I have spent many years In tile capital, and I tell you the on girls of that time hud mutinera uud knew how to wear their clothes, but my nguln the magic of old memories kept m my lady on her throne. There wus j one of them—Just one of those others who, I sonii'llinos thought, wus utmost as graceful and charming and noble hearted as Bully, and she llkml me, I know, but the Ideal of my youth glowed in the light of the early morn- UM lug, so to speak, and was brighter than all Others. Above all, 1 had given my word to Bully, and—well, you know, the olil-tlme Yankee of good stock wi»s fairly steadfast, whatever else may f,. he said of him—often a little too steadfast, us were Ben Grlmshuw and Squire Fullerton. The senator and I went calling that New Year's day. We saw all the great people and some of them were more cheerful than they hail a right to be. It was a weakness of the time. I shall not go Into details for fear of wandering too far from m.v main road. Let me step aside a moment to say, however, that there were two clouds In the sky of the Washington society of those days. One was strong drink and the other wus the crude, rough coaled, aggressive democrat from the froutlers of the West. These latter were often seen In the holiday regalia of farm or village at fashionable func tinua. Some of them changed slowly, and by and by reached the stage of white linen and diamond breastpins sud waistcoat» of figured silk. It must he said, however, that their mo tlves were always above their taste. The winter wore sway slowly in hurd work. Mr. Van Buren came down to see the senator one day from his country seat on the Hudson. The ex president had been solicited to uooe|l the nomination again. 1 know that Seim tor Wright strongly favored the plan but feared that the South would defeat him In convention, It being well known that Van Buren was opposed to the annexation of Texas. However, he advised his friend to make a tight for the nmnl|iiitliui and this the latter resolved to do. Thenceforward until middle Ma.v I Rave my time largely to the inditing of letters for the senator in Vun Buren's behalf. The time appointed for the conven tlon in Baltimore drew near. One day tile senator received an Intimation that he would in* put in nomination if Van Buren fulled. Immediately lie wrote te Judge Fine of Ogdenshurg, chair man of the delegation from the north district of New York, forbidding such use of his name on the ground that his acquiescence would involve dis loyalty to his friend the ex-president, ile gave we leave to go to the eon ventlon on my way home to meet Sally, I hud confided to Mty. Wright the de tails of my little love affair—I had to era —and she had shown a tender, sympa thetic Interest In the story. The senator had said to me one day, with a gentle smile: "Bart, you have business in Canton, I believe, with which trifling matters like the choice of a president and the Mexican question cannot be permitted to Interfere. You must take time to spend a day or two at the convention in Baltimore on your way. . . . Re port to our friend Fine, who will look after your comfort there. The experi ence ought to be useful to a young man who, I hope, will huve work to do In future conventions." I took the stage to Baltimore next day—the twenty-sixth of May. convention thrilled tut—the flags, the great crowd, the bunds/ the songs, the speeches, the cheering—I see und hear it all In rny talk. The uproar»lasted for twenty minutes when Van Buren's name was put In nomination. Then the undercurrent 1 The South was against lilin as Wright hud fore seen. The deep current of its power had undermined certain of the north ern und western délégations. Osten sibly for Van. Buren and stubbornly casting their ballots for him, they had voted for the two-thirds rule, which hud accomplished ids Cefeat liefere the balloting begun. It continued for two days without' a choice. The enemy stood firm. After adjournment that evening many of the Van Buçen dele gates were summoned to a conference. I attended It with Judge Fine. The*ex-president hud withdrawn and requested Ids friends In the conven tion to vote for Silas Wright. My emo tions cun be more readily imagined tbnn described when I heuril the shouts of enthusiasm which greeted my friend's mime. Tears began to roll down tny cheeks. Judge Fine lifted hlu Impd. When order was ut lust re stored he began : "Gentlemen, as a fflond of the learned senator ami us a resident of the county which is the proud pos sessor of Ids home, your enthusiasm lias a welcome sound to me; lint I hap pen to know that Senator Wright will not allow Ids mime to go before the The „ *"*' vi ' n " read the let ter of which I knew, Mr iUmjamhi F. Butler then said: , u ' ut loUor ( w " 8 wrlu ™ fa Wight WUH 1 ,,ot " warB , l ' mt / r ' V,,n »uren's nomination could not be «;<«>n U ,llHliiil nor was he aware that " ls " wn nomination would he the .vi "," mt unanl.ui.us wish of this conven 1 1 h,,vo wl " tl !\ ? a< '" 8 delegates from Missouri and Virginia toiiuy. They say that he cun he noml mltu(1 , UCP , amil0(m . i„ U possible he l a Htrong party Ilmn _ cnn r „. „„ unttIllmoU8 cnl , of the , mrty ||h w||u £ , 1UH WOQ , mnlortlll | No , t , l(|t g0 . u CBIinot he j H0 \yp must dispatch a messenger to | llm |, y horse u t once who shall take | 0 ],lui from ills friend Judge Flue a , VllIlk „tutement of the Imperious de maud ,,f lids convention und a request (hat he telegraph a withdrawal of his letter In the morning." The'suggestion wus miuYilinously up proved and within an hour, mounted on one of the best horses In Maryland —so his groom Informed me—I was on my way to Washington with the mes- I m , B ,. 0 f judge Fine In my pocket. Yes, j | m q two days to spare on my ached ule of travel and reckoned that, by re turning to Baltimore next tluy 4 should reach ('union in good tljne. It wtts the kind of thing that only a '' nuie, supple, strong-hearted lad such '' UM t WUH | U the days of my youth, could relish—speeding over a dark rott(1 t,y the light of the sturs and a \ hulT-moon, with a horse that loved to kick up a wind. My tirnln wus ln a f,. V er, for the notion had come to me * that 1 was making history. The lure of fame ami high place hut rled me on. WUh the senator In the ,lll presidential chair I should be well started In the highway of great sue cess. Then Mr., H. Dunkelberg might think me better thuu the legacy of Benjamin Grlmshuw. A relay awaited me twenty-three miles down the road, Well, I reached Washington very sore, but otherwise in good form, soon after daybreak. 1 was trembling with cxclteimgit when 1 put my horse In the stable and rang the hell at our door. It seemed to me that I was crossing the divide between big and little things. A f aw steps more and 1 should tie look ( I1( , down Into the great valley of the future. Yet, now that I W|is there, I tiegnn to lose confidence. of The butler opened the door. yes, the senator was up and had It w returned from a walk and was in pis study. I found him there. "Well Bart, how does this happen?" in he asked. "It's important business,'' I said, ns i presented the letter, Something in his look and manner as lie calmly adjusted his glasses and read the letter of Judge Fine brought the blood to my face. It seemed to puncture my halloou. so to speak, and I was falling toward the earth anil so to swiftly my head swam. He laid tin* | ( >tter on his desk nuit, without looking U p , uu j as coolly as if he were asking f or the change of a dollar, queried: "Well, Bart, whst do you think we to h„,| potter do about It?" "i—i was hoping—you—you would take it," I stammered. "That'* because the excitement of day the convention is on you." he un svvered. "Let us look ut the compass, Van They have refused to nominate Mr. Van Buren because he is opposed to the annexation of Texas. On that sub Jeet the will of the eon vép tlon is now clear. It Is possible that they would uomlnate me. We don't know about dis- timt, we never shall know. If they did, and ^accepted, what would lie ex eon- p«-cted of me is also cleur. They would expect me to abandon my prln de- clples anil that course of conduct to which I conceive to be best for the country. Therefore I should have to accept U unjjer false pretenses and take their yoke upou me. Would you think the needle pointed that way?" "No," I answered. Immediately he turned to his desk and wrote the telegram which fixed his place in jjistory. It said no. Into the lives of few men has such a •moment falten. I looked at him with a feeling of awe. What sublime calm r.ess and serenity was In his fuce! As If it were a mere detail in the work of the day, and without a moment's fal tering, he hud declined a crown, for he would surely have been nominated and elected. He rose and stood looking out of the open window. Always I think of him standing there with the morning sunlight fulling upon his face and shoulders. He hud observed my emotion und I think it had touched him a little. There was a moment of silence. A curious illusion came to me then, for it seemed as if I heard the sound of distant music. Looking thoughtfully out of the window he asked : "Bart, do you know when our first futhers turned out of the trail of the heust and found the long road of hu manity? I think it was when they dis covered the compass in their hearts." Bo now at lust we have come to that high and lonely place, where we may look back upon the toilsome, adven turous wny we have traveled with the aid of the candle and the compass. Now let us stop a moment to rest und to think. Tim night Is falling. I see the stars in the sky. Just below me Is the valley of Eter nal silence. You will understand my haste now. I huve sought only to do justice to my friend and to give my country a name, long neglected, but equal in glory to those of Washington and Lincoln. Come, let us take one last look to gether down the road we have trav IIow sweet the air is hère! Ml «M ' 411 | j I Took the Stage to Baltimore Next Day. • cled, , now ,llm 1,1 the evening shad OWM - Scattered along It are the little house» of the poor of which I lmve '' rltton :, , th ®, "* hts 7, "" '' ow8 t,le ,,Rh *" tlUit aro 8 ' u nR int ° tl,e 801,18 of thc y " unB : ,h0 f." g cxpintant, welcoming spuls o \ 'f »'»«ng and the light curries many '1'lngs, hut best of all a resitei t for t ,,,u ' way thp c ' 1 * f ( ' r ." that Is the end and a the whole matter believe me. My ,ms lengthened into these ,lll - vs "hen most of our tasks are uc conipllshcd by machinery. e try o 1110,1 * ,y ***** thousand. In mis educational machines, and no longer l,y the one né of old. It was the ov lnK ' forgiving, forbearing, patient, ceaseless toil of mother mid father on 11,0 fender soul of childhood which quickened that Inextinguishable sense of responsibility to God and man in these people whom I now leave to the Judgment of my countrymen, 1 hnve lived to see the ancient plan A of kingcraft, for self-protection, com lnR hack Into the world. It demands ,,mt **'e will and conscience of every I Individual shall lie regulated and con trolled by some conceited prince, backed by an army. It cannot fall. I foresee. to accomplish such devusta in tlon in the human spirit ns shall tm peril the dearest possession of man. ^ one 18 *° fo ' low the compass he can huve but one king-ids God. ns to so tin* we of un Mr. to ex the Ml «M £?> 411 MOTIV t was you ful." m 1 *\' 5f ' < id E ÜLJÎ wjk fiiil ! t' the my a left she only TV ► zÆ y «»■ and or It's \\ on / * a * * I am near the end. I rode hack to Baltimore that forenoon. They had nominated Mr. Polk of Tenuesse for president anil Silas Wright for vice president, the latter by acclamation. I knew that Wright would decline the honor, as he did. I hurried northward to keep my ap pointment with Sally. The boats were slowed by fog. At Albany I wus a day bthind my schedule. I should have only an hour's leeway If the boats on the upper lakes and the stage from Plattsburg were on time. 1 feared to trust them. So I caught the west bound train and reached Utica three hours lute. There I bought a good lu-rse and his saddle anil bridle und hurried up tlie north road. When he was near sin nt 1 trailed him for u well knit Morgan mure up In the little vil lage of Sandy Creek. Oh, I knew a good horse as well as the next ninu and a better one than she I never owned—never. 1 was hack In my sad dle ut six in the afternoon auii stopped for feed anil an hour's rest at nine anil rode on through the night. I reached the hamlet of lUehville soon after day break and put out for a rest of two hours. I could take it easy then. At seven o'clock the mare and I started again, well fed and eager to go on. It was a summer morning that short ens the road—even that of the young lover. Its air was sweet with the breath of the meadows. The daisies and the clover and the cornflowers and the wild roses seemed to be wav ing a welcome to me, and the thorn trees—shapely ornament of my native hills—were In blossom. A cloud of pigeons swept across the blue deep above my head. The great choir of the fields sang to me—bobolinks, song sparrows, meadowlarks, bluebirds, warblers, wrens, and fur away in the edge of a spruce thicket I heard the flute of the white-throated sparrow. I bathed ut a brook In the woods and put on a clean silk shirt and tie out of my saddlebags. I rode slowly then to the edge of the village of Can ton and turneij at the bridge and took the river road, although I hud time to spare. How my heart was beating as I nenred the familiar scene! The river slowed its puce there, like a dis cerning traveler, to enjoy the beauty of Its shores. Smooth and silent was the water and In It were the blue of the sky and the feathery shadow-spires of cedar and tamarack und the reflect ed blossoms of Iris and meudow rue. It was a lovely scene. There was the pine, but where was my lady? I dismounted and tied my mare and looked at my watch. It lacked twenty minutes to eleven. She would come—I hud no doubt of it. I washed my hands and face and neck In the cool water. Suddenly Ï heard a voice I knew singing: ''Barney I.cnve the Girls Alone." I turned and saw—your mother, my son. (These last lines, were dictated to his son.) She was In the stern of a birch canoe, all dressed in white with roses In her hair. I raised my hut and she threw a kiss at me. Old Kate sat in the bow waving her handkerchief. They stopped and Sally asked in a tone cf playful "seriousness: "Young man, why have you come here?" ° o in I he "To get you," I answered. "What do you want of me?' was looking at her face In the water. "I want to marry you," I answered bravely. "Then you may help me ashore If you pieuse. I am In my best, wtiite slippers and you are to be very care ful." She She was the spirit of Beautiful ! the fields of June then and always. I helped her ashore and Ig-lil her in my arms and, you know, the lips have a way of speaking tlfeu in the old, con vincing, final argument of love. They left no doubt In our hearts, my son. "When do you wish to marry me?" she whispered. "As soon as possible, but my pay ls only sixty dollars a month now." "We shall make It do," she an swered. "My mother and father and your aunt and uncle and the Hackets and the minister and a number of our friends are cymlng ln a fleet of boats." "We are prepared either for a picnic or a wedding," was the whisper of Kate. "Let's make It both," I proposed to Sally. "Surety there couldn't be a better place than here under the big pine— It's so smooth and soft and shady," said she. "Nor I'ould there bo a better day or bettor company," I urged, for I was not sure that she would agree. The boots came along. Sally and I \\ uvcil .» welcome from the bunk and she merrily proclaimed : "It's to be a wedding." Tlu-n a cheer from the boats, ln which I joined. I shall never forget how, when the company had landed and the greetings were over, Uncle lVabody upproached your mother and said : "Say, Sally, I'm goin' to plant a kiss on both o' them red cheeks o' yours, an' do it deliberate, too." He (lid It and so did Aunt Pool and old Kitte, und I think that, next to your mother and roe, they were the happiest people at tlie wedding. There is a lonely grave up In the hills—that of the stranger who died long ago on Kattlerond. One day I found old Kate sitting beside it and on a stone lately erected there was the name, Enoch Rone. "It l* very sorrowful," she whis pered. "He was trylug to find me when he died." We walked on ln silence while I re called the clrcuinstnnces. How strange that those tales of hlood and lnwless daring which Kate had given to Amos Grlmshuw lmd led to the slaying of her own son! Yet, fio It happened, and the old wives will tell you the story up there In the hills. The play ends Just ns the night ls falling with Kate and me entering the little home, So familiar now, where she lives and is ever welcome with Aunt Deel and Uncle Peabody. The hitter meets us at the door anil is saying In n cheerful voice: to for I the ap day on to und he vil a ninu sad anil day two "Come In to supper, you rovers, How solemn ye look ! Say. if you ex pect Sally and me to do ail the laughin' here you're mistaken. There's a lot of tt to be done rtgtit now, an' It's time you J'fhi-d In. We ain't done nothin | hut laugh since we got upq an'^we're In need o' help. What's the matter, Kate? Look up at the light in God's winder. How bright It shines tonight! When I feel Nul I ulwuys look at the stars." , I (THE END.) Get on Right Road at Once. It often requires courage to turn hack when we have taken a wrong step, hut it is easier to lurv buck after the first than after the secn/d or third, and much safer and i-' .' t°r We Certainty * By JOSEPHINE PAGE WRIGHT (Copyright.) Marian Moderwell was a clever wo und the knowledge would have man, come to her sooner or later. 1 The remarkable thing about tt that it came to her before it did to vas either of the others. The revealing incident happened at veeks after the breakfast table two her college friend, Ann Somers, had arrived to be her guest for the winter. Glenn Moderwell was dawdling over his second cup of coffee, despite the fact that breakfast had been served later than he usually demanded It. "I don't want to hurry you uway, my dear," ventured Marian, "hut if you do not start soon. you'll he late for your train." "Nonsense," scoffed her husband ; "plenty of time." And then Ann appeared on threshold—Ann, radiant in one of lier Glenn's the astonishing breakfast gowns, suppressed cry of satisfaction (lid not escape Marian, and the peril stood naked to her eyps. When her husband arose at once and came to lier side to give lier a cordial Impersonal good-by kiss, she returned It gaily and began to banter lier young guest on the conquests of the night lie fore. remarkably beautiful "You are a woman, Ann," she concluded with gen nine warmth. Tlie front door closed softly and Marian fancied her husband's retreat ing footsteps were reluctant. She real ised now that he had lately more than ince missed Ills train to tlie city that he might breakfast with Ann, or, at least, say good morning to his guest before he left. recalled her Ann's pleasant voice hostess to the present. "Beautv counts a lot, Marian, after "But It as conceding. all," the girl has its disadvantages, admiration of many Interesting and de sirable men. But sometimes It draws the other kind, the ilnil and the impos It attracts the sible." turn suggested "Even married men," Marian. "Why, yes," admitted the other light ly, "even married men. Sometimes their attentions are annoying, some times they mean nothing." "They always mean something to the wife," pronounced Marian. Tin-re was no bitterness in tin words, no subtle meaning, it was the phfln statement of a truth, the applica tion of which thc wife was not only • willing but anxious to have her friend discover. Between these two women was a bond of lova, and unusual un derstanding. "You are not afraid—" gasped Ann In dismay. "Just'that, my dear. I am afraid. 1 suppose that every afraid until she hns the absolute cer tainty." "But fur six years Glenn hasn't thought of another woman," protested Ann. "For six years," said Marian, "Glenn has had very few opportunities of see ing or knowing another woman. He hns worked hard. He has helped me with the children. We have had no time for nur friends or for society." "It has 'been very fortunate," mur mured Ann conventionally. "It hns been very pleasant," cor rected her hostess, ,"hilt it hasn't proven anything except my husband's dutifulness." "That's a lot," Insisted Ann. "It's everything to some women," admitted Marian, "but It doesn't mean n tiling to me." "It should mean something to the mother of Ids children." "It doesn't count even on that score," confessed the mother. "Listen, Ann. Tills struggle for the love and interest of a man ts world-old and doesn't (-nil at the altar, not ever, no matter how fine and clean and honest the man may he." Marian watched her young guest keenly anil noted the serenity of the girl with'satisfaction. This friend had never failed her yet. would not fall her now, although she had never tested the friendship ns she now hail It in her heart to test it. She was* not surprised, however, when Ann suggested the wisdom of cutting the visit short. of and bis ian her. g' one dfe ls always I I ls n "On the contrary," denied Marian, "you must .remain even longer than you had planned if necessary, my sake, you must stay until 1 know." Ann paled. "But if the worse—" "Nothing." protested lier hostess, "nothing can lie worse than uncertain ty." For left the breakfast-room anil They strolled arm in arm to tlie nursery. of | 1 j -„aI man I know." I During the days which followed 1 Marian fought many battles with her "Come," begged Ann, "outline my wretched task for me. I see yotfr view-point and. for your sake, I will do as you ask But It Is horrible." "It need not he so. Treat 1dm as could treat any normal man. , I you Glenn." she boasted, "is the most nor : seif. Otv the other hand, the growing in terest of her husband in Ann mnde her feel that she must reach the truth st any cost. The beautiful young guest was verv j popular socially and had few evenings or to her hosts. to d -vote exclusively When she hml. she gnx e freeïj ^ her One eve for their enjoyment. nine after she had been playing ■»* singing for some time, Glenn, turned to^ his wife. keep up your music. talents "Why don't you Marian?" he demanded. "I haven't much to keep." ^ apolo gized lightly. "I never sang well and I cannot play as Ann does. I doubt 1 or singing would give my playing pleasure to any one." "Our* talents are not the "You cotdd come nearer well than I same," laughed Ann. to playing and singing ^ •riting u poem." could to "Songs in a home •ms in a mag make more music ira //me," observed sur 1 than p Glenn ■ouhl be don't get Into .. They don't make save the "You sourly. itTIls prised liovv ninny P magazines, moreovei if a sound anywhere much 1 Onlv now Marian wondered whether - her or to sert Ann, with her changed the subject he really meant to tens« otisly disparage her. usual tact, had and the incident passed off. "Why don't you dress your Ann's?" asked Glenn several days later us he sat at dinner alone with his wife. She laughed aside the demand at the privacy of her hair like the time, but in rooms that night she stood before her and faced herself and lier tall mirror problem bravely. was only a year or two older She titan Ann, and she looked ten. took the pins from her hair iok tlie loose strands over her had Shi aml sb waves heavy ( luce shoulders, hung below her waist. Glenn had been proud of it then. As she stood before the glass now illi patient lingers, to twist fashionable she tried, the despised coils into a coiffure. "It all "before she mused, I would have given •eut," littlc Mary cuini tin- flesh from my hones to have kept the poor little tiling alive, flees seem to be in vain. But, of course, they aren't really." Some sacri • finally rewarded by a riiHicr imposing achievement. But she si.. her head dubiously. She nraided her hair into tight Ht •keil her door, anil erft-d Her efforts ven tie pig tails, 1 herself to sleep. la the meantime, Ann, aside from the fact that her task was daily be coming more distasteful and irksome, was having a very good time. of the older Tom DeVv'itte, one bachelors, was markedly devoted, and rejoiced in this Marian would have turn of Ann's affairs had it not brought another and serious turn in her own. Tom ami Glenn had always I oil friends, but after (lie frequency of Tom's visits to Ann began t noticeable, Glenn's cordiality ceased. When he came home one evening and found Tom dining informally at bis table lie became distantly polite, almost to tin- limit of rudeness. Mar ■en g' lie ian saw tlie change, and panic swayed her. Tin- evening of the dinner Ann and DeWitte drove to the theater. Left to themselves, Glenn and Marian faced one another in dumb misery. "Play and sing for me," rasped Glenn. Marian went to the piano obe diently, but her hands tremble^ and her voice shook. "I cannot, Glenn—indeed, I cannot," she pleaded. "It is tl others are not here." "It is. Indeed, 1 nm sorry," she ac knowledged, holding lier hands tightly together test their trembling betray her agitation. "Go-go to your room!" thundered her husband. bud," he sneered, "the v he hates me—how he liâtes me!" she kept repeating to herself up tin- interminable stairway. lit- followed her almost immediately. "We ma.V as well have an under standing at once," lie said wearily. "You must refuse this man DeWitte tin- house, or I cannot answer for my treatment of him." "I'm sorry, Glenn—sorry for you. It's all my fault. But I cannot turn him away." "You must," In- blazed. "What do I care for your sorrow? Do you think I will let this man stand in my way?" "But think of Ann. She hns her right to happitu "Marian, you are no have been married six years, either unsophisticated cunning." "Glenn, our happiness is in ruins. But let us be man enough and woman enough to think of them. If Ann cares for him, anil he cares for Ann—'' "For Ann, for Ann," he laughed harshly—"do you suppose a man* of DeWitte's type would give look or thought to a scrawny, white, immature little thing like Ann, in tin presence of a splendid, brilliant, beau tiful—" "I " she pleaded. child. You You are or devilishly second a Marian sprang forward and searched llie angry eyes of him. In their depths she saw tlie sincerity of a hoy. the passion of a man—hut beneath them both she saw tlie certainty. Her plump arms tightened about his neck and she covered his face with her kisses. "You're a queer woman." said Glenn, stroking her smooth, dull liai/ with a tenderness that belied tin- gruff ness of his si I have been trying b h. "Here for weeks he good to you and to your pretty little friend, and you have been cold as a stone. And now. when I talk to you like a drunken cad—" She fumbled up arm is his lips and pulled his nose until it was red and unlovely. "You've tried to he good she mocked. "Let me tell you, foolish one. it doesn't matter in the least whether a man is good to his wife or not." Which cryptic remark she did not expect him to understand. Not that It mattered. Nothing mattered but the certainty. to me."